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    Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor: Lady Rample Mysteries, #8
    Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor: Lady Rample Mysteries, #8
    Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor: Lady Rample Mysteries, #8
    Ebook81 pages1 hourLady Rample Mysteries

    Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor: Lady Rample Mysteries, #8

    By Shéa MacLeod

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    About this ebook

    When Lola Burns lands on Lady Rample's London doorstep, begging her to throw a Halloween party, there's not much to do but oblige. Especially when Aunt Butty gets involved. Naturally, that means a trip to an abandoned manor house that comes complete with its own ghosts.

    However, the glamorous costume party soon turns into something more deadly when one of the guests is poisoned. With spirits running amok, starlets going missing, and threatening letters popping up willy nilly, will Lady Rample ever reveal the truth behind the haunting of America's favorite movie star?

    Enjoy the latest Lady Rample Mystery, a humorous and ghostly Halloween cozy mystery set in 1930s England.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSunwalker Press
    Release dateSep 29, 2019
    ISBN9781393880479
    Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor: Lady Rample Mysteries, #8
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    Author

    Shéa MacLeod

    Author of the international best selling paranormal series, Sunwalker Saga. Native of Portlandia. Addicted to lemon curd and Ancient Aliens.

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      Book preview

      Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor - Shéa MacLeod

      Chapter 1

      The very last thing I expected to find on my doorstep that gloomy autumn morning in October of 1933 was Lola Burns.

      I’d been after the milk since my maid, Maddie, had a head cold and was laid up in bed, and I was desperate for tea. But when I swung open the door, there she was—Lola, not Maddie—looking just as blonde and fabulous as she had in Los Angeles.

      I’d met Lola several months ago at her wedding to one of my Aunt Butty’s old friends. The poor man had promptly been murdered, and I’d found myself involved in the investigation. Something that was becoming an unfortunate habit of mine. Last I knew, Lola had taken up with her dashing young chauffeur, Sam.

      She is, you see, an American film star. So naturally I’d never dreamed I’d find her standing on the stoop of my London townhouse, draped theatrically in a mink stole with a dramatic little red felt slouch hat pulled low over one eye.

      She tossed her golden locks and said, Well, ain’tcha gonna ask me in?

      Lola may be an American movie star, but most of the time she sounds more like an American gun-moll. I half expected Al Capone to jump out of the shrubbery.

      Er, yes. Come in, Lola. Nice to see you, I said in that properly pleasant way that had been drilled into me since birth.

      Lola stepped into my foyer which was a neat little room edged on one side by a rather lovely staircase. There was lots of elegantly carved crown molding, a heavy crystal chandelier, and highly polished wood floors covered over in expensive Aubusson rugs. A neat little marble and mahogany Art Deco table held a vase of pink hot-house roses.

      Ain’t this fancy, Lola said, peering around. Must be nice, being a lady and all.

      My name is Ophelia, Lady Rample, and while I wasn’t born into wealth or a particularly high status, I married rather well. When my husband, Felix, left me for the great port and cigar party in the sky, he bequeathed me this townhouse, along with a property in France, and all his worldly goods save his title and a crumbling manor in the wilds of Yorkshire. Those had gone to his cousin, Binky. Binky still hasn’t forgiven me. I lose a great deal of sleep over it. That was sarcasm, for the uninitiated.

      Yes, it is, rather, I said. May I take your stole? How about a drink?

      Yes, please! She tossed her stole at me and strode in the direction of the kitchen.

      Ah, this way, Lola, I said, pointing toward the sitting room. What will you have? I asked once she was seated on my sofa next to a low burning fire. The sitting room was one of my favorite places in the house with its marble mantlepiece and peacock blue walls.

      G & T, doll. The kids got me hooked.

      I was also not best pleased to be forced to mix the drinks myself. Maddie was much better at it.

      Kids? I asked, whipping up a gin and tonic for her and a highball for me. I much prefer whiskey over gin, though I will drink what’s available, if I must.

      Sure. I’m here in London doing a film over at Lime Grove, see?

      Oh, I see. I guess that explained what she was doing in London. Lime Grove was a movie studio. I handed her the G & T and then took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. Have you been here long?

      Couple of weeks. I’ll be here up ‘til Christmas, probably. She took a long swallow of her drink.

      That’s... lovely, I said, not sure what else there was to say. Is it a nice film?

      Some period piece. Swords and corsets. You know the drill.

      I honestly had no idea, but I nodded sagely. Are you and Sam still an item?

      She snorted. He’s cute and all, but I can do better. Got my eye out for a Viscount or somethin’. So when they offered me this gig, I hopped a boat to England fast as I could.

      And you thought you’d stop by for a visit.

      Well, that and I need your help.

      It was my turn to take a long swallow of my drink. "My help? Whatever for?"

      She leaned forward. I want to get in good with these people, see?

      I see. I assumed she meant the movie people.

      I thought I could throw a little party. For Halloween, you know. It’s just around the corner. I figured you know lots of people. You could help. She beamed as if I would naturally be thrilled to put my life on hold and plan a party for her.

      Ah. You mean, you thought that me having a title would impress your fellow thespians.

      Her brow wrinkled. I ain’t one of those. I like men.

      I blinked. "Actors, Lola. Your fellow

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